


what the rain brought out

by steeringwheeleater



Series: hues [1]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Backstory, Between Seasons/Series, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeringwheeleater/pseuds/steeringwheeleater
Summary: the team gets caught out in a heavy rainstorm, but it's not to worry: the detective has friends in the area. and a concussion, but we'll worry about that later.
Relationships: Male Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Series: hues [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744879
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	what the rain brought out

**Author's Note:**

> xbhxhxhx sorry about the tags i know some of them are wrong but i Am doing this on my phone which means i can't write my own. some of these transitions are worse than id like them to be but i wanted to write a few of these scenes more than others, so i decided to cut my losses for the first time in history.

The rain bit into his skin wherever it was exposed--- face and forearms, neck, scalp ---drops like hammers and cold as ice, numbing all sensation and loosening his grip on his firearm. The downpour was thick, and even when he managed to swipe all of the water from his eyes Hugh couldn't make out a thing through the sheets of it, couldn't hear anything over the unsteady but continuous beat of the rain. For the first time in what must have been ten years the only thing that Hugh could rely on with certainty was his car at his back. Busted to hell that it may be, sinking on its suspension under his weight and  _ definitely _ leaking under the hood, the old hunk of junk was the only thing keeping him grounded in a storm where he could neither see nor hear. 

It would be dangerous to call out with the target still nearby. With any luck, the storm would be wreaking havoc on their own senses and they wouldn't be able to identify Hugh for all of the racket. Then again, his boys would face the same dilemma left to their own devices out here. 

"Bravo!" Hugh shouted, trying again to mop the water from his eyes as he glared into the gloom. 

They'd had enough luck in the past drawing a perp in and taking them down as a group. Enough that Hugh didn't think that he would  _ immediately die _ for his call. 

And he was right: death was not immediate. 

Before he could think to call again Hugh was slammed back into the side of the car, turning whatever words he intended to a strangled cry. Over the drone of the rain he could hear the sound of breaking glass, and somewhere through the fog of his numbness he was aware of a radiating pain in his shoulders and his head. More immediate was the rough press of fingertips into his clavicle. It felt like somebody was doing their damndest to push him bodily through the metal. 

Hugh had the presence of mind to raise his pistol before he was shaken, slammed into the car door again. The gun fell to the ground, its defeated clatter lost to the downpour. It was hard to think beyond expletives, so Hugh stared gape-mouthed down at his empty hand while the person holding him forced him further into the metal. He ached. 

His assailant was speaking. Fuck if Hugh could hear it. If he squinted up he could see the flash of over-white teeth, but the rest of their face was obscured by shadow and the smudge of the rain in his eyes. 

Oh, now they were moving in. Going for his neck, if he had to guess. Hugh threw up his hand in a desperate attempt to push them back, but his limbs were too weak with the cold. The hot breath of the strange vampire fell over his face and Hugh shouted once more in a plea for his team's attention.  _ Any minute now...!  _

_ Please! _

Just as he was sure that he could feel the vampire's teeth sinking into his flesh Hugh felt the pressure at his shoulders give as the hands that held him were ripped away. 

" _ Off _ the merchandise, please!" Felix tossed the vampire back towards a waiting Adam, who landed a hard kick down to their knees. They went down fast in a spray of dirty water, taking another kick to the back and scrabbling at the wet asphalt for any kind of purchase. Another kick, this time to the head, brought their struggling to an abrupt end. Too late, Mason skidded to a stop beside the car, and Nate nearly tripped over the unconscious vampire before he could slow his run.

The team glanced around at each-other before turning their eyes as one to the target on the ground. They didn't seem to notice Hugh in the aftermath.

"Took you long enough," Hugh sagged until he hit the ground, ass in a puddle on the street and too exhausted to care. Mason still had hands on the stray vampire, but the other Bravo boys came 'round to fuss in their way. Nate knelt at Hugh's side to assess the damage, taking the detective's head in his hands and turning, pressing, prodding about his neck, and Felix set a light hand on his shoulder. Adam stood with his back to the three and his shoulders tense, on alert. 

"Hugh, could you focus on my eyes for a minute?" Nate propped Hugh's cheek in one hand, the fingers of his opposite buried in the short hair at Hugh's crown. 

"I can't see fuck-all through this rain, Nate." He managed a laugh and brought his arms in against his chest. The cold was getting to him now. How were they still standing? Why was the back of his head warm? Well, it was getting colder all the time.

"Try?" This was so soft that Hugh almost missed it, but he could imagine the pinched look on Nate's face clearly. Pursed lips, furrowed brow, the whole nine. He'd grown very familiar with Nate's expressions over the last half-year. 

And fond of them in a way he rankled to admit. "... Fine." If it had been even four months ago Hugh would have taken offense at his concern, tried to ignore the pain or walk it off, but as it stood he only stared ahead and hoped that it was eye contact-adjacent. 

Felix raised a hand to shield Hugh's eyes from the rain. He grunted a thank you, and he could feel Felix's self-satisfied grin on the side of his face. 

Several moments passed in tense silence before Nate said, bashfully, "I can't tell if you have a concussion like this."

Felix barked out a laugh over Hugh's shoulder as a smile crossed the detective's own face. 

"It's the rain, huh?" 

"It is. Sorry."

Hugh sagged into the side of the car, Nate slowly taking his hands back from his head. "I  _ did _ tell you so." 

Mason, or the vague shadow that Hugh knew to be Mason, appeared to be sitting on their captive now. He hadn't lit up, which Hugh attributed to the heavy rain, but his knee was bouncing like he rather wanted to. "We going to move at some point?" He asked. 

"And we need to call headquarters, from something that isn't too soaked for use." Felix gave his waterlogged cell phone a shake and a tap, holding it up to show the others when the screen stayed dark. The others found similar results, which didn't give Hugh much hope for his own phone in his jeans pocket.

With some effort, and some assistance from the vampires on his either side, Hugh pushed to his feet. He kept one hand on the body of the car to steady himself, and he answered, "It isn't safe to drive in this." Nobody needed the gesture, but Hugh's hand waved about in the space beside his shoulder. 

" _ You're _ not safe to drive." Adam added. He was helping Mason lift the target off of the ground. It was still difficult to make out their features, but Hugh thought that they looked much smaller, frailer now that they weren't trying to kill him. 

"We could always carry you with us, back to your place." Nate suggested, still hovering close by. 

Hugh shook his head. "You just told me you can't see. We can't travel like this." 

"And what are we supposed to do with them?" Adam jabbed an irate finger towards the target, hanging between himself and Mason like a puppet on strings. "Wait for them to wake up?" 

Again, Hugh shook his head. He balked briefly when it churned his stomach to do so and he re-adjusted his hand on the car door. "I know where we are. I remember the street signs. I know where we can go,"

"That doesn't help with the rogue vampire problem." Adam argued. Hugh shot him a glare. 

"They go in the trunk." 

Felix seemed almost giddy. "Seriously? The trunk of the car they just smashed to hell?" 

"Got a better idea?" Hugh  _ really _ didn't want to be standing there any longer. 

"They won't wake up for a while. If they do, they'll be disoriented. It'll work." 

Adam and Mason carried them around the back of the car, Hugh making his own, slower way until he could unlock the trunk. For all of his complaints about it, he would be sad to see it junked. He just couldn't think of anyone in town willing or able to bang this many man-shaped dents out of a scrap heap. 

Once the body was inside, Hugh locked the trunk and turned away from the vehicle. "Alright. Just let me do the talking." 

Shortly Hugh and Unit Bravo stood under a slanted porch awning, the sound of the rain loud from behind them but blissfully quiet in the bubble of their company. The porch was dark as anything without the light on, but Hugh couldn't bring himself to care as he fumbled for the doorbell. 

"Say, it's not midnight, or anything, is it?" Felix asked over his shoulder. Hugh ran a frigid hand through his hair. 

"Hush up back there, I think she's coming." 

The boys straightened their posture, but Hugh looked almost nervous in a way they'd only ever seen him around Rebecca. 

The porch light flared to life suddenly, and the door opened soon after that. On the other side stood a stout older woman in a thick purple cardigan, her greying hair falling loose around her shoulders and her eyes behind thick spectacles. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but on her face was a beaming smile. "Hubert Prism! And how long did you think you could go without dropping by to say hello?" 

Behind him, Hugh heard Felix take a good laugh at his full name. "I figured I'd give it at least ten more years, Mrs. Whitman." His own laugh was weak. "Or at least until Petey came back into town."

Mrs. Whitman pulled Hugh forward into a crushing hug, ignoring for the moment that he was soaked to the bone and shivering. "You were just going to let me hear about your promotion from somebody else, weren't you?" 

"Is this a question?" Hugh asked. 

Noticing that what she was holding felt more like a cold sack of wet leaves than a man, Mrs. Whitman pulled back from Hugh, holding him at arms-length by the shoulders. Her tone turned from warm to stern, and she fixed Hugh with a withering look. "Prism, what are you doing out in this weather? Where is your rain jacket?" 

"I was driving, I didn't think I'd need it." He answered, and it wasn't exactly a lie. "But my car broke down in the middle of your street. We can't get back to the station." 

Mrs. Whitman took back her hands, setting them on her hips. "So you spend ten years galavanting around town without so much as a phone call and show up out of the blue half-drowned with an entourage?" 

Hugh had the good sense to look ashamed when he answered, "Sorry, ma'am. I wouldn't impose if I didn't need to." 

Bravo stood huddled and dripping on the porch just behind him, watching with rapt fascination. They'd  _ never _ seen Hugh this compliant-- not with the mayor, not with the chief of police, not with his own mother. He was always prepared with a quip or an argument, a well-timed quirk of his brow that could only get him into trouble. They couldn't help but wonder just who this woman was. 

Mrs. Whitman watched Hugh for a moment longer before softening. She reached out to hold him again, though this time they could see it was gentler. "Don't mind that, you silly boy. The house has been too empty without you in it." 

Dully, Hugh curled his arms around Mrs. Whitman's back and pressed his face into her hair. 

"Well, come inside. Don't dare keep your shoes on." 

Mrs. Whitman's house was almost as he remembered it: charming blue walls littered with framed photographs of her children, enough furniture for the whole brood, and shelves upon shelves of books. In the mix were a handful of pictures of himself, standing next to Petey or Jess. As they shucked their shoes and outer layers Hugh watched the Bravo boys pick him out on the walls and stare, like they weren't quite sure how to proceed. Nate shot him a curious glance that he pointedly ignored. 

In the kitchen Mrs. Whitman put the kettle on, set out a platter of cookies she'd pulled off of her fridge top, and for the quiet inside and the pounding of the rain outside the house seemed all the more insulated and the space all the smaller. 

The team and Hugh sat 'round the table in mismatched chairs, as only four had come with the table set. They seemed more on edge even than usual, Hugh noted, even Felix sitting entirely upright in his chair. They all seemed smaller without their coats. Not by much, mind, but it was strange to see them without. 

"So, Hugh, are you going to introduce me to your friends?" Mrs. Whitman asked, returning to the table with the hot kettle. 

She poured for Mason first, telling him to 'chipper up' before moving on. 

Hugh held out his mug with a wince.  _ Shoulders _ . "These are my coworkers. Teammates." He wouldn't mention that they also worked with his mother. "That's Adam. Then that's Nate, Felix, and Mason. We were on a case when we got caught in the storm." 

"And you're all detectives, too?" She raised her eyebrows over her own tea.

"No, just smartasses." Hugh answered before anyone could get a word out. Felix snickered.

"Hugh! We are at the table." Mrs. Whitman scolded.

"Sorry, ma'am. I'm not feeling well." 

She kept her frown, "Of course not! You're asking for trouble being out in this rain! Up you get!" 

Mrs. Whitman herded Hugh out of the kitchen and towards the stairway. The Bravo boys seemed unsure of whether to follow, until she shot them a very conclusive look. They followed her up onto the second floor, a cozy hall with doors on either side and a weathered, if soft, carpet under their feet. "Into the shower with you. Peter left some of his clothes behind when he moved to the city. They'll be drier than all of this," She gestured up and down Hugh's body. "And more than that, they'll keep you warm. Stop you from catching a fever." 

Hugh's face reddened, a consequence of being treated like a naughty child in front of his team, but didn't argue. In an almost practiced motion he walked to a small closet in the wall and returned with a towel. "Thanks for this." 

"Don't thank me, Hugh. Just take care of yourself." Mrs. Whitman turned to the rest of the team. "The two rooms on the left are my sons'. Split yourselves up however you'd like, just don't make a mess of the place.  _ Eventually _ they'll come back to visit." 

With one last smile Mrs. Whitman departed back down the stairs, ostensibly to clean up her kitchen. Hugh glared around at the Bravo boys, stopping on each face in turn as if  _ daring _ them to say anything. They didn't, but Felix had that shit-eating grin on his face and Hugh knew that he wanted to. 

His shoulders sagged. He didn't have the energy to have this fight. "I'm going first. My head is killing me." 

"Will you be alright?" Adam asked, seeming to relax now that Mrs. Whitman wasn't watching them. 

"Probably. It's not the first time I've hit my head." 

"But you  _ are _ bleeding." Felix said.

"And concussed." Nate added. "I can see it now. You could hurt yourself." 

Hugh groaned, made to shoulder past them to the last room on the right. "I think I'll survive a shower. Shoo."

One by one Unit Bravo turned to go, separating into their two rooms. Mason was the first to go, followed by Adam and Felix who seemed less than pleased to be spending the night. Nate was the last of them, turning back again to look at Hugh before finally disappearing into Petey's old bedroom. 

Finally alone, Hugh made for the shower.

The light in the bathroom flicked on, and with it came a sharp pain behind his eyes. Hugh hissed, clinging to the doorframe with one white-knuckled hand, as the pain bloomed into a dull throb. Dull, but not without heft. He could hardly think past it, now coupled with the pain in his back. 

"You're  _ fine! _ " He muttered to himself, staggering into the bathroom, where he set down his towel and pretended that he wasn't holding himself upright on the lip of the sink. He would take this fucking shower if it killed him. And it might just.

_ Fuck _ . 

Now looking in the mirror Hugh could see that he looked as tired as he felt. His hair was still wet, standing on end where he'd been smashed into the car window, where Nate had been poking around. His eyes were drooping considerably over the bags underneath them. A real sight to greet the woman who'd raised him, but then he'd really gotten the shit kicked out of him tonight. It was embarrassing, even if the team was made up of vampires with enhanced strength and senses, to be unable to defend himself. 

Would it be more or less embarrassing to brain himself on the edge of the bathtub when he passes out in the shower? 

Hugh heaved a heavy sigh and left the bathroom, crossing the familiar hallway to an even more familiar bedroom and pushing open the door. It was dark-- nobody having bothered to turn any lights on --and Nate was sitting at Petey's desk, decidedly not poking through his belongings so far as Hugh could tell. He turned towards the door when he heard it creak open and Hugh raised a defeated hand in greeting. 

"Hi." 

"Hello." Nate had that curious gleam in his eye again as he watched Hugh hover in the doorway, and Hugh almost gave up on this idea altogether. Surely Nate wouldn't think any less of him, what with how concerned he seemed to be, and what with Hugh's injuries, but there was a part of him that worried. Nate was a vampire, and he could crush Hugh like a bug no matter how loathe he was to admit it. What if seeing him like this-- again --would only throw their differences into sharper focus? What if Hugh's humanity broke down whatever was building between them? 

"Hugh?" 

He snapped out of his thoughts to find Nate had crossed the room from the desk. Standing at this new distance Hugh was under no illusion that Nate couldn't read the anxiety in his expression. He shifted from one foot to the other. "Hey. I was wondering if you would… If you'd come into the bathroom with me." 

Nate blinked. Hugh's face was warming under Nate's gaze but he held firm. He'd continue, as to-the-point as possible.

"Catch me if I pass out, so I don't hit my head on the porcelain and die." 

That did it. Nate appeared to flounder for a response for a while before he nodded, and Hugh quickly fled back to the bathroom. 

Nate didn't cross the threshold. "How do you want to do this?" 

Hugh was trying to worm his damp shirt off over his head without straining his shoulders, and stopped when his fingers lost the hem at his elbows. From inside a horrible little shirt-tent he answered, "Uh… I'll call you in once I'm in the tub." 

"Alright." 

It was a struggle to get out of his shirt, but once that was out of the way it was a simple enough matter to roll his jeans and boxers off. When he stood again he was able to get a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he balked at the sight. "Oh, crap…"

Hugh stooped over the sink and twisted his shoulders about to try to assess the damage more closely: bruises bloomed along his collarbone and over his shoulders, hideous and dark, and some curled as far around as his ribcage. None of the glass seemed to have broken skin, but he could see blood caking where his shirt collar met his neck. When he checked the shirt itself Hugh could see more staining in watery semicircles down the back. If Mrs. Whitman saw this she'd have sent him to the hospital. He had the rain to thank for the fact that she hadn't, he supposed. 

Breathing a long exhale Hugh pushed himself upright and hid himself away in the shower. 

"Alright. Come on." 

Nate waited a while before opening the door and stepping into the bathroom. Hugh could only guess that it was to make sure of his privacy, and felt his cheeks heat at the thought that Nate was separated from his bare body by a single, fish-patterned curtain. He had to wonder if Nate was thinking the same thing, too. 

There was a creak from the other side of the curtain, Nate sitting down on the toilet cover. "You'll tell me if you feel faint?" Nate asked.

"I'll definitely try." Hugh answered. 

Nate said nothing else, so Hugh hurried to turn on the taps. As always the initial spray was a bitter cold, and when Hugh exclaimed he was almost sure that he heard Nate laughing from outside, the bastard. 

As could be expected from an open wound, whatever holes were in Hugh's head stung like hell when the hot water started to roll over them in earnest. He put the idea of washing his hair out of his mind entirely, focused instead on washing the blood and dirty water off of himself. Another stupid supernatural entity after his stupid blood. Not as bad as being kidnapped and mad-scienced by Murphy but definitely on the painful side, definitely not something he wanted to do again. With a lather of bar soap Hugh stepped out of the spray to try to clean his wound-- wherever it was. 

"Hey, Hugh? Who is Mrs. Whitman?" Nate asked, voice muffled by a wall of plastic and the spray of the shower. 

Hugh lathered up another handful of soap suds. "Mrs. Whitman is my friend Petey's mother. She practically raised me, seeing as Rebecca was always away on Agency business." 

"So she's Rebecca's friend?" 

"Yes and no." Hugh stuck his head under the spray and winced openly under cover of the shower curtain. He was usually very expressive, but it was hard to show weakness around the Bravo boys. "When I was in year three Petey ratted me out to a teacher and I stuck his head into the classroom toilet. I got in trouble  _ again  _ for doing it, but it was fine by me because he never did it again. We started hanging out; I was more intimidating than the people who would usually pick on him, and he'd give me his test answers." 

Nate sounded a bit confused when he answered, "Petey befriended you because you gave him a swirly?" 

"Sure." Hugh, content that he'd gotten all of the blood off of himself, simply stood under the spray and let the water warm him until it was almost too hot to handle. "We hung out every day. Our moms arranged it so that while Rebecca was out of town Mrs. Whitman would take care of me." 

Finally Hugh turned off the shower taps. Nate sat up a little straighter on the toilet, which Hugh could see of his shadow through the curtain. 

"Could you hand me that towel?" 

"Oh. Sure." 

Hugh stuck a wet arm out and waited until he felt the terrycloth in his fingers. He felt something else, too: Nate's hand cupping his from underneath, like the towel might be too heavy. Like Nate wanted to hold his hand. 

Hugh took the towel and made short work of drying his hair, delicate so as not to disturb the wound, slowly so as not to jerk at his shoulders. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out into the bathroom proper, where Nate was looking away from him towards the door. 

He couldn't help himself. "Afraid you're going to catch a glimpse of some scandalous lower leg?" He teased. 

Nate sputtered defensively, snapping his head around to retort before his face went slack instead and his argument seemed to die on his lips. Hugh was puzzled, before Nate's hand came up to graze his bruised side.

Hugh took a step away. Nate jerked his hand back as if he were caught committing a crime. "Hugh… I'm sorry. You're just…" 

"Delicate?" Hugh huffed. One self-conscious hand came up to hide a darker bruise that he knew peeked over his shoulder. "I know. In fact, I'm  _ painfully _ aware." 

"That isn't what I meant." Nate looked hurt that Hugh would even think such a thing, but he didn't have the capacity to feel guilty. He didn't say anything at all. "How much does that hurt?" 

Hugh looked past Nate to the foggy mirror behind him. "More than a little, if we're not lying." 

"We're  _ not _ ." 

Hugh was prepared this time when Nate's fingers brushed across his shoulders. He was so gentle, like he was afraid to touch Hugh at all. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, and Hugh lowered his own hand from his bruise. 

Hugh offered Nate a small smile. "I'll live." As long as they weren't lying, Hugh wouldn't say that it would feel better in the morning. Even for Nate's sake. 

More confidently, Nate took Hugh's face in his hands, almost the way that he had when they were out by the car. He met Hugh's eyes in much the same way, as well, but there was something desperate in his eyes that made Hugh sure that Nate wasn't just checking on his concussion. Those eyes were screaming something that Nate couldn't or wouldn't articulate, and Hugh wanted him to so badly. 

Nate leaned down slowly, like to stir the air around them too much would be to break what'd settled over them, and pressed a soft kiss to Hugh's brow. It was hardly the first kiss, not even the first of its kind, but this time it felt too purposeful to be written off like them. It was like Hugh could  _ feel _ the emotion passing through that point of contact, and it  _ hurt _ . 

All too quickly it was over, and Hugh needed to blink a wetness from his eyes before Nate could see what he'd done. 

"Please… I want to know that you're okay. Whenever." Nate said, and he held Hugh's gaze like he needed it. 

Hugh couldn't think of anything clever to say to that. He could only hope that the tears wouldn't return to his eyes when he swallowed hard, answered, "I am. Thank you, I am." 

Nate followed Hugh back across the hall to Petey's bedroom. Finding clothing from a high-school-aged Peter Whitman that would passably fit a thirty-year-old Hugh Prism sounded a simpler feat than it was, and it took the both of them on their knees beside his wardrobe to find anything of the sort in the dark. While he dressed, Hugh kept his eyes trained on Nate sat on the bed, wondering if he would be curious, wondering if he would look. Nothing of the sort, but Hugh supposed that a determination not to look so strong as Nate's was just as damning as taking a peek.

It might have been a bit weird if things had gotten steamy in his best friend's childhood bedroom, anyway. 

Hugh lay down slowly, careful not to jostle his head too suddenly, and Nate turned where he sat until he faced him. 

"I think that if I tried to sleep on my side my shoulders would fall off." Hugh joked, laying his hands over his middle, looking up at Nate from the pillows. 

"I would stick them back on for you." Nate replied. 

"Not your smoothest," Hugh smiled up at him, "But it was sweet." 

The two sat in silence for a while as Hugh tried to come to grips with the fact that no part of his body wouldn't hurt if he chose to sleep on it. He wondered if the boys were asleep in the other room or simply sitting the way that they would in his own apartment. He wondered if Nate would return to his place at Petey's desk, or if he would stay here on the bed. Would Hugh need to ask? 

"Nate," Hugh asked, "Should I be sleeping tonight?" 

"Huh?"

"Because of my concussion. Should I be sleeping?" Hugh asked again. 

Nate shook his head. "I don't know enough about that. I don't know any more about medicine than what you already know." 

"Then why would you even check for one?" 

"Because they put your head through a window, Hugh!" Nate sounded exasperated, but Hugh could see him smiling even as he dipped his face low behind his shoulder. Hugh laughed. It was quiet again.

Nate didn't give any indication that he would be moving, simply sitting there next to Hugh's legs and looking at the posters lining the wall opposite the bed. Was he going to sit there all night? Hugh didn't like the idea that the boys sat up all night in his apartment, and then they weren't even in the same room. To know that Nate would be sitting, awake and unmoving, next to him while he slept was a little disconcerting. 

"Aren't you going to shower?" Hugh asked lamely, knocking his foot against Nate's damp thigh. 

"I wasn't planning to, no. I'm not in any real danger of becoming sick." Nate answered. He blinked, turned his body to face Hugh more completely, "I'm sorry, did you want me to go? I should've known that this would be weird. The others won't mind if I join them next--" 

"No! That's not what I meant!" Hugh sat up quickly-- a little too quickly, feeling like his brain was hurtling forward even when the head stopped moving --and groaned lowly when it proved to be a bad move. He hadn't thought about it, really. He didn't want Nate to leave. The headache bent Hugh over his knees and his next words came out as a tense jumble, "I don't know how to ask what I really want to ask!" 

Nate's steadying hands came down on Hugh's shoulders. They were significantly closer, now, and Hugh wasn't sure if that made his question easier or harder to ask. It should have been so simple-- they'd been through so much together that sharing a bed was hardly an intimidating prospect. How many times had Hugh kissed this man? How often did they laugh together? 

Hugh knocked his forehead against Nate's shoulder with another drawn-out groan. He let himself be manhandled back into the pillows, squinting up at Nate while the other man busied himself adjusting the bedding, considering him and weighing the consequences. He'd been an absolute bastard tonight. He may not have wanted to make himself vulnerable, but Nate deserved to see that he was.

Fuck it. He was as uninhibited as he was ever going to be. He may as well use it. 

Hugh shut his eyes, however, so that he wouldn't need to look at Nate while he spoke. He wouldn't see the disappointment, or the disgust, or the rejection if he wasn't looking for them.

"Nate, would you stay here with me?" He felt the dip and rise of the mattress still under Nate's hands as the man himself stilled, and he held his breath to avoid breaking the silence. 

To his right the mattress creaked under a point of weight, and Hugh felt a hand alight on his left cheek.

"Hugh, look at me." 

He hesitated, but Hugh did open his eyes. Nate was bridged over him, his face hanging some inches from Hugh's, but far from rejection or disappointment Hugh could see that he was glad to be asked. Of course he was. Hugh was a catch! And they were… together. 

"How long have you been sitting on that question?" 

He was being teased. The blush that'd lit Hugh's face burned brighter now and he threw his hands up over his eyes to hide himself, biting back a curse. It was never worth it, opening up like this! "Maybe an hour," He said. If it sounded like he was dying, well then he just may as well have been. 

The mattress shifted again, evening out as Nate pulled back his arm and shuffled up towards the headboard. "Wow." 

" _ Wow? _ " Hugh's laugh was only a little bitter, his smile twisted and chagrined. 

"Wow." Hugh was peripherally aware of Nate's breath on the side of his face, but he didn't make to look at him again. Consequently, and owning those consequences, he didn't fight when Nate curled loose fingers around his wrist and pulled one of his hands away, nor the other one. He simply watched him out the corner of his eye as he ran feather-light fingernails up Hugh's palm and wove their fingers together atop Hugh's chest. Over his heart, not that he had the presence of mind to notice. "That's just such a long time. And you didn't want to kill me  _ once? _ " 

Hugh pulled a face. "What are you talking about?" 

"Not even when I was laughing at you?" 

"Well, I'm coming close now." Hugh answered, and Nate laughed. 

"I'm sorry, Hugh. It's just that I know that I can be a pain." 

_ Damn my back, _ Hugh rolled to face Nate beside him, though he had the sense not to lean up on his elbow, and careful not to dislodge their fingers. "You? You've never been a pain." Nate kept his eyes on Hugh's, now that Hugh was willing to share them. This felt like 'a talk', somehow, like they were coming to an actual understanding. "If anything, you deserve a medal for putting up with  _ me _ ." 

"You're hardly something that I have to put up with." Nate returned. Hugh felt like he was burning up. 

"Stop being better at this than me." Hugh lay his head back down on the pillows, feeling the strain in his neck and ignoring it in favor of watching Nate's smile widen. 

"Yes, by the way." And Nate relaxed into the bedding beside him, tucking their joined hands in tight against Hugh's chest once again. When Hugh only sent him a questioning glance Nate continued, "I'll stay. Don't worry." 

Hugh pulled their hands up until they were level with his mouth, and almost like he was hiding again he spoke into them. "'M not worried… But thank you." 

This time when Nate leaned towards him Hugh met him half-way, and the kiss was sweet, even if the stretch of his neck was uncomfortable. When they settled back down it was together, and when Hugh fell asleep Nate's eyes were also peacefully closed.


End file.
